


More than a meal

by Writetomuchsmut



Category: Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, If you want - Freeform, Incubus Canada, M/M, Mage New Zealand, Mage United Kingdom, Maybe I'll continue this AU, Naga Australia, Sex Pollen, Succubus France, neither of them are actually human, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writetomuchsmut/pseuds/Writetomuchsmut
Summary: A succubus is forced to break his moral code, giving in to his hunger. The prey he chose gave him something a little new.
Relationships: France/United Kingdom (Anthropomorphic)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

France continued down the streets of a dark Londen, much outside his normal domain, yet his desperation for subsidence had driven him far. He told himself he would never take it from someone who didn't give themselves willing and with enthusiasm. He had no choice if he wanted to make it through the night, that’s how he justified it as his eyes lied on a large house. 

France couldn't find someone to taste and if he looked anymore openly would be dangerous for the social image he had carefully construed. France began his climb up the side of the building, the weeks of hunger making a once easy task exhausting. 

He hauled himself up on the window sill, panting like a dog. He reached out to the window, a quick flash of his last reserves of magic unlocking it. He paused, breaking and entering was a crime, sure he had men in his bed just as women, that was a crime he was forced to commit to keep himself alive. 

And so was this. France slipped inside, his feet falling softly onto the carpet. He was relieved to see a man turned away from him standing only a couple of feet away. The man was fairly attractive, dark oak hair falling just above his shoulders, his lean body was exposed due to his lack of shirt, well kept and groomed.

The other still hadn’t noticed France in his room until his arms were around him. The man barely had time to panic before the siren scent spread through his lungs, lulling him into a lustful drugged unconsciousness. 

France spun him around, taking in his catch. He was almost hesitant, he was a succubus, not the one to lead, that was the incubus’ job. Luckily his thoughts were cut off as a new pair of lips pressed against his. Taste exploded through him as the meal began, maybe it was the starving that caused him so much trouble to process the taste, a mix of saltwater and sweet tea on a summer day.

France enjoyed taste as much as anyone else, some tasted better than others. This man had such intensity that he could feel the sense being overwhelmed by his aroma as it weighed down on his tongue. 

He led the other to the king-sized bed in the center of the room. France pushed him down on the mound of pillows, his legs spread open. His hand traced the form of the other’s lips as he considered giving him another dose, removing any chance of memory, France could simply leave after he was done. No… he would deal with the consequences in the morning as he always did. 

The francophone quickly started at the trousers before he felt a pair of hands cover his.

“I understand we’re a little far into this but… perhaps we should exchange names first?” France froze, how the hell was he still conscious enough to ask him this? A small weight lifted off his shoulders, he hoped this meant that he really wanted this.

“France, a pleasure.” He practically ripped the trousers off, tossing them aside. He slipped the head in his mouth.

“B-Britain an… and s-sam- Bloody H-Hell! Where did you learn to do that?!” France’s mouth curved into a smirk. His tongue glided softly down each side before he took the entire thing in his mouth, sucking as hard as he could. He was a little giddy to taste this one’s cum.

He pulled off, giving a long lick across the balls. He raised his head to see the flushed cheeks of his partner. 

“Keep going~” He felt Britain’s fingers tangling themselves in his hair, trying to direct him back down. 

France’s lips found their way up to the other’s neck, nipping at the skin, savouring each bead of taste. “Shush shush love… just relax~” 

His hands travelled down Britain’s body, exploring his well-built prey. He heard a giggle pass through Britain’s lips as his hand brushed against his back. France gave him a look before he caressed the same area, his nails grazing gently on the skin.

“Ah!” Britain snorted, followed by a curt laugh. “F-France stop, that tickles!” 

“Oh?” He turned a sly eye on him as he continued rubbing. He began biting at Britain’s inner thigh, laughs turning to moans. 

“France~!” He felt strangely accomplished when he got others to moan his name like it made this more than a meaningless hook up to one and dinner to another. He felt Britain jolt as his tongue pushed up against his entrance. 

France flipped the two of them. “Ready to get to the main course chéri?” 

Britain eagerly nodded as France easily slipped off his clothes. The other held his legs up by his thighs. Britain’s eyes combed over his body, soaking in every little detail and curve. 

“God… you’re beautiful~” France took his legs in his own hands to give the other more freedom. He was used to compliments about his body though he still took some gratification in the mindless response. 

The francophone could feel fingers milling around the ring of muscles, he held back the urge to tell him to skip preparation as that always brought up more questions than it solved. Two digits wiggled in, his body easily stretching around them.

They curled inside, France was used to faking pleasure most of the time, it took a lot to truly make him feel anything. A third got pressed inside, then a fourth. Britain’s lips tightening into a thin line.

“Well… this isn't exactly your first time?” 

France couldn't think properly, the hunger was more present than ever now that this meal was practically pushed up against his lips. “Volonté-tu juste te taire et me baiser déjà?!” 

France was empty for a moment before something larger stretched him out fittingly. “Volontier.” 

Britain panted lightly as he buried him completely inside France, enjoying the heat shared between the two bodies. France let out a relieved sigh as the all-consuming hunger finally began to edge away. 

The English man pulled almost entirely out, a shiver taking over his body at the friction. He snapped back in a grunt falling in between his lips, thrusting again. Energy flooded through France, his head falling against the wall. He couldn't help but lick his lips as that delicious taste overtook his being. 

Britain bent over, guiding France to rest his legs on his shoulders. He connected their lips, the kiss slow and deliberate in contrast to the rough, messy plunges. His teeth nipped at France’s neck, giving him marks to match his own. 

France watched the other’s face and body tense as his thrusts lost their rhythm. “France~ oh god please France-!” 

Heat spread throughout his abdomen, filling his stomach. He was sated for a moment before a craving for more bubbled up. Britain had barely moved, tired beyond belief. He gripped his shoulders, throwing him back against the pillows. France repositioned himself on top of Britain.

“Encore?” He murmured the question directly in his ear.

Britain clutched France’s forearms as he heaved, weakly nodding. The other lifted himself, ready to feel full for the first time in a while.


	2. Chapter 2

Britain woke up to the all too familiar situation of an unrecognizable nude man snuggled in his arms. He unwrapped himself from the man, stretching out under the blankets 

“Bon matin~” the other sat up, knotting his hair in his hands. Britain was momentary starstruck by the beauty of the man beside him, pinkish blushes on his cheeks and joints, soft reddish-brown curls framed his delicate features. He had an undeniable feminine form that seemed designed to draw his eyes. He couldn't help but swear he had heard a description like that before. 

Britain politely averted his eyes as the other slid out of bed, redressing himself with practiced ease. “Go back to sleep for a bit, you must still be tired…” Now that he mentioned it, Britain couldn't ignore the pounding in his head, something like a hungover but infinitely worse. 

He assumed that the other man had left, it wouldn’t have been the fastest one of his partners ran after a night of intimacy. 

Britain was rudely awakened by plate dropping on his lap, his body jolting up. A wave of regret washing through him as the pain in his mind intensified. A delicious smell tickled at his nose, he looked down to his lap, the plate on his lap had multiple croissants, a small bit of scrambled eggs and what looked like candied apple slices. 

He took a small bit of butter and spread it across a croissant, he bit down, the taste was glorious. “How’s your head?”

“Mmm...” Britain thought he recognized something like guilt. “...you were… poking around my kitchen?”

“I had your dick in my mouth, I can poke around your kitchen a little.” Britain choked on his bread. 

The food went down quickly, he realized he was starving, he felt like he hadn't eaten in days. “Are you not eating?” 

The man’s eyes quickly averted. “I- uh… well~” The blush on his cheeks brought Britain’s attention to the polished, pale and smooth skin. He took a double-take, it seemed almost too smooth, too polished, too pale… like an old Greek statue. He questioned his assumption that his partner was human. 

“France… right?” He mumbled, dabbing a napkin on his lips.

“Oui, was that really that hard to remember?” Britain paused, he couldn't deny that the last night was rather foggy, he could clearly remember pleasure running through his veins. His eyebrows furrowed, there were some blanks.

“I doubt I was entirely sober last night, to remember it mostly but…” He looked at France for a moment. “I don't have the foggiest clue how we ended up in a bed together?” 

“Is that really that important?” The smirk on his face just barely concealing an extreme nervousness. 

“I supposed not…” He pushed a plate on the nightstand before grabbing France by the collar, bringing him close. “Up for round two?” 

Britain’s scent filled his nose, he wanted nothing more than to push him down and ride until he didn't have the energy to think. France restrained himself, he knew that Britain was much too exhausted to feed him again. He had done enough damage.

“I’m sorry but we- I can’t…” The other looked almost hurt, France couldn't help but feel guilty for rejecting him.

“Oh… of course…” He slowly let go, France grabbed the dirty plate for something to distract himself from the awkwardness. 

France couldn't help but inspect the house, it was in no way tasteless, Britain definitely had some money. His eyes scanned the room slowly, he had eaten, made breakfast to, in some small way, replace the energy he took from his partner. He supposed it was time to leave, it was unconformably normal, he had expected for something to be different but Britain seemed so… alright with what happened.

A small sigh slipped past his lips. He licked his lips, he was going to miss that taste. God, it was nice to actually have energy again, it would be a while before he would be able to build his magic reserves to the amount he had before.

France slipped his hand around the door handle, he was about to walk out when he felt a grip on his shoulder.

“Hey, I don’t know if we had some kind of agreement to keep this causal but… you want to get coffee sometime?” 

France couldn't help but get excited at the idea of tasting him again. Before he could truly consider what he was agreeing to he replied, “sans doute, I look forward to it.” 

He felt Britain slip a small piece of paper in his hand, his number, he assumed. A smile spread across France’s lips as he walked out onto the street.

“Britain…” He liked to way it sounded on his tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> France was pacing like a caged tiger, he wished that the hollowed-out tree he chose had more room. He agreed to a date… him, a being of sex and corruption, is about to go out on a date with some poor human that had already taken his fill from.

France carefully pulled open the door to the quaint coffee shop, the warm and cozy scent filling him with content. His eyes swiped the smaller space, finding landing on the recognizable form of Britain. He dropped his bag against the chair before sitting across from the other.

“I was worried you weren't going to show up.” His tone was playful, his scent reflecting this, France couldn’t sense any tiredness, it wasn't common for them to bounce back so quickly.

“I wouldn’t miss this.” He stuck out his tongue. “And I definitely wouldn’t miss you~” Britain barely hid a blush. France ran his eyes over the other, noting his jewellery. “Gold looks good on you.” 

The small talk continued, metals, colours. France’s fondness grew even in meaningless quips, jokes and opinions, he suddenly had a personality to attach to the scent and now it seemed all the richer. The server came and whet, Britain getting a small breakfast while France only ordered a pumpkin spiced coffee, one of the few physical foods or drinks he could stand.

“Look, there really isn't a good way to ask this but…” His fingers nervously fidgeted against his sleeve. “Are you… human?” France felt his body freeze up, Britain seemed to notice. “I haven't seen eat anything or well…” 

“Aren't you observant? Or maybe it was just dumb luck.” The food was dropped off, both staying silent for that moment. He took a sip of the caffeine. “Non, I’m not if you must know, I am a humanoid.” 

He noted Britain’s proud expression. “A subspecies? Curious, that would actually explain some things. Though, that still leaves the question, what… are you?” 

France took another drink, he could feel the tension rising as he avoided eye contact. “I really like you Britain, I don’t want to scare you off…” The other’s eyebrows furrowed a little.

“Hey, hey, I promise, come on…” He hated the pity. 

“I’m a Cubus, succubus to be specific.” Britain just missed hiding his surprise and slight horror. France’s sigh radiated disappointment. “I can just leave if this isn’t going to work out.” He sounded so tired 

“No, no it’s fine… I’m just- I didn’t expect a cubus to be interested in a relationship…” His voice got quiet “or to be so well-spoken?” 

“Right! Because all succubuses only ever think is seducing poor innocent men who were just minding their own business and ruining their life cause… evil~” Britain flinched at the sarcasm, sinking back on himself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that…” He mumbled. “So… I assume that the other day wasn't an uncommon occurrence for you?”

France gave a small laugh. “Not at all, though I prefer to observe my meal-” He glanced at Britain cautiously. “Uhm… partners for a couple of days to make sure I don't have to worry about getting anything. I was lucky you were so well kept”

The other’s eyes went wide with curiosity, almost like a puppy. “Cubuses can get STDs? Wait, did you just say you stalk people?” 

“Ah, yes, we can like any other humanoid and~ yeah I wouldn’t prefer to use that term but… you’re not wrong.” 

Britain tapped his fingers against the table, picking at his muffin. “Did you… stalk me?”

“Ah well~ no, actually… you were, a bit of a split-second decision.” He gave a shrug.

“Well, that’s a shame~” France tilted his head. “I was hoping you already fell in love with me and were just going through the motions.”

The other laughed Britain couldn't help but join in. “Unfortunately we’re going to have to do this the boring way…” 

“I don't think I’ll mind that.” 

France sighed as he stared out of the small shop as the rain came down.

“Why does it rain so much in London?” 

Britain pulled out an umbrella. “You aren't from around here then?” 

The other stared at him. “I’m… I'm French?”

He shrugged as they began to walk together. “Mhm, I just assumed that all Cubuses were french… language of love and all that?” The silence was palpable, just enough time to become uncomfortable. “...I’m joking.”

“Oh thank fucking god, I had no idea how to approach that. You suck at sarcasm by the way.” 

Britain let out an annoyed huff. “You Frenchies just don't know how to read sarcasm…” He looked out with a thoughtful expression. “I don't suppose you have anywhere to be? Maybe you come home with me?”

“You want me to fuck you into next week again?” 

Britain pouted his lip. “Maybe! I just thought your cooking was good! Not everything is about sex!” They maintained eye contact for a couple of moments. “But yes if you could be so kind as to fuck me into next again that would be great.” 

France placed his hand on the umbrella and on Britain’s, a light blush spread across the other’s cheeks. “Of course love.”


	4. Chapter 4

The movie they had put on was long forgotten as Britain ran his hand against France’s soft hair. His other hand snuck up his shirt, feeling the cool stone-like skin.

Britain froze, he could count France’s ribs, his spine stuck out against his skin. “Are you… supposed to be this… thin?” He barely stopped himself from using the word emaciated. 

France looked away, his expression conflicted. “Non… I don’t want to talk about it.” 

The other’s concern grew. “Maybe you do need to eat physical food-?” 

“-I said I don’t want to talk about it!” France snapped. He was aware of the awkwardness of having this argument while they were half-naked. Britain’s lips tightened, he obviously wanted to argue.

He let out a strained sigh. “Do you still want to continue?”

He shrugged, “It's more up to you, you can't really ‘mood kill’ an appetite…” 

Britain gave a vague nod. He slid France’s pants down, taking him in his hands before pressing it to his lips. He bobbed his head for a few moments, he took a glance up at his partner, realizing that France wasn't reacting at all. 

“B-Britain- Brits, I appreciate the effort but I can't actually feel sexual pleasure. Let me do the work.” He pushed him under, sitting between his legs. He hesitated, his eyes flickering around the other’s body as he decided what to do, an almost worrying smug smile tugged at his lips. “You want to know a fun fact?” He flipped him over. 

A weak gasp forced its way past Britain’s lips, his grip tightening on the pillows. “Ah-! D-do I?” 

“Oh shush, yes you do.” The other assured. He had a vague memory of the last time France used his tongue but it was not nearly enough to prepare him for the size and strength of the wet muscle that slid inside of him. He choked as he momentarily forgot how to breathe, the unfamiliar invasion twisting inside of him. 

He tried to bring himself to say something as he convulsed against the cushions, barely managing each wave of pleasure. It pulled out of him as quickly as it went in, already leaving him a panting, shivering mess. 

“Oh, oh god France.” He turned himself back over to face his partner’s smug expression, the tip still hanging out past his lips. 

“We have, larger than average tongues~” Britain just shook his head at the understatement, pulling the other’s bare thighs on top of his lap, humming at the friction each movement caused.

Their lips brushing softly before connecting properly. France’s hands cupped his partner’s jawline as he lifted himself. “Ready?” 

“Don't you need preparation-?” He was caught off as the other dropped himself, easily taking him in.

“You were saying~?” He grinded gently. “Mhm, I’m so glad you know what I am, we can skip the foreplay.”

“The foreplay’s the fun part!” Britain whined half-jokingly. He began bouncing France, his mouth open in a silent gasp of pleasure. He continued to flutter kisses around his neck. He noticed a bump slightly larger than a quarter. “What’s this?” He ran his fingers over the softer raise in skin. 

“We are fucking… Stop asking me about my anatomy.” His grip on France’s hips tightened, a light embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks. He tried to stutter out an excuse before just shutting up, continuing to thrust.

Britain's head rested against France’s chest, his breathing calming down as his high slowly slipped out of him, leaving him in comfortable exhaustion. 

He twisted around so his back was pressed to the other’s front. “So are you going to tell me what's on your neck now?” He heard a heavy sigh. “What? I’m curious, humanoids are incredibly under-researched.”

France couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. “It's a scent gland, Siren’s Scent.”

“The drug? You… have scent glands for a drug?” 

“Non, I produce a pheromone that the drug is derived from. I have four main glands of different intensities…” He directed his hands against the area in between his index and thumb. “Two on my hands to lure prey in, one on my neck to keep them there and…” He drifted off. 

“And?” Britain leaned back, his eyes meeting France’s. 

“...One in my mouth, to be injected through my back fangs.” 

The other tilted his head. “You don't have fangs?” 

He shrugged. “Oui, I do, they’re hidden in the top of my mouth, like a serpent.” France brushed his fingers against him, tracing each line on his chest. “You should let yourself sleep, I’ll make breakfast in the morning.”


	5. Chapter 5

France propped his head up against the cold white metal as he looked out at the sea, Britain had invited him out on a boating trip a few weeks ago. He looked back to the land slowly disappearing as the ocean surrounded them.

“I can't believe you have a private boat, how stereotypically rich can you get?” 

Britain scoffed. “It's not that surprising, you know how close I live to the coast… and so what, you considering taking up gold-digging?” He put the boat on autopilot.

France let out a chuckle as he hugged his neck from behind. “Too bad I can’t baby trap you, that would make this a lot easier~”

The other raised his eyebrow as he carefully removed his arms before shoving him off. “Bloody hell no!” A smile on his face giving away his non-serious manner. 

“Qué? You don't like kids?” France dropped back on his seat. 

“No, I just don't want anymore.” 

There was a noticeable silence as he processed Britain’s words. “You have kids?!” 

Britain let out a loud and sudden laugh. “Yes, two twin girls and a boy, all adults.” France let out a hum in response. “What about you?” The other raised an eyebrow in question. “Want children? Got children?” 

“Oui, un, my little polar bear…” His smile weakened. “I haven't seen in some time, he went off on his own a couple of years ago. Which… isn't unusual but he has yet to cross back into my territory.” 

Britain rested a comforting hand on France’s shoulder as he pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I'm sure you’ll see him again, my oldest, America, left for college and didn't speak to me until he was a year away from graduation, five years later but it happened, sometimes they just need time.”

The Francophone guided his hand up to his mouth, planting his lips gently against his palm. Conflict clouded his expression for a moment. “You asked some time ago why I was so frail-” 

“-You don't have to answer-”

“No, I want you to know, when we first met I was… well, on the brink of death would be putting it lightly. I was starving beyond reasonable, hadn’t eaten in months. It’s actually why I was out here, just- looking for… someone.” 

“Well, glad you found me then.” France’s eyes only became more downcast. The only sounds being the gently lapping of waves against the sides of the boat.

“You don't get it.” He finally saw quietly. Before Britain could respond France continued, his voice almost frantic. “I didn't ‘find you,’ I broke into your house, I-I drugged you, if you’d been anyone else, if you were any less okay with it or used to it, it would have been rape, fuck! It practically was rape-!” He was cut off as he got shoved against Britain’s chest, a hand slowly caressing his back. 

“Shh, that’s enough.” He wiped away a small trail of tears France didn't even know was there. He took in a shaky breath, giving a soft nod. They stayed like that for a few precious moments, Britain’s heart beating quietly in his ears. The sound of birds squawking a distance away. 

“Brits? Look there.” He broke the silence, his eyes focused on something past him. Britain turned, his eyes opened wider as he recognized giant black clouds. “That’s a huge storm…” 

His eyes narrowed, it didn't look natural yet he couldn't place why. It wasn't until he heard what sounded like wailing that the reason suddenly hit him. “...Merfolk…” He whispered softly. 

France’s grip on Britain’s arm tightened. “W-we… must have drifted into their territory. You think they may not have noticed us, we could turn around?” A second of observance told him it was moving towards them. 

“They know we’re here, we can’t. They’re not uncivilized just… territorial, I should be able to talk us through this…” His voice wasn't as confident as his words. 

“And if you can't?” Britain ran a hand through his hair, a hissed sigh slipping under his breath. 

“Then they’ll sink my boat and drown us…” He grumbled. Britain stopped the ship, waiting for the cloud to reach them first in the hopes that would be less intimidating. 

France saw the glitter of colours briefly deep under the water before the ship stopped suddenly, both of them stumbled as the boat jolted back. Britain quickly bolted down the stairs to the bottom deck. Waves came up onto the white surface rhythmically. 

“If they don't come out to talk first we’re bloody screwed…” He muttered as he approached the edge. The distinctive clicking slowly gained volume until two heads broke the surface, a purple-scaled with redfins and a green-scaled with yellowfins. Something in France told him to hang back.

“Greetings!” Britain forcefully smiled. “I-”

“Why are you here?” The purple one hissed out, sounding as if they were gurgling water. 

“Ah, I assure you it was an accident, we drifted off course.” He gestured off to the side of the sea, the rain beginning to spit as the black clouds settled over place. “If you’d let go we could get back to the mainland and you’ll never see us again, I promise…” 

The purple one squinted their eyes. “It would be easier to grab both of you now and drag you down wouldn't it?” 

“Ah-” Britain searched for the right words before the green one start clicking. Their body language wasn't very readable but he could see them gesturing towards him. 

Once again the green one turned towards him. “Are you of high social standing?” 

“Yes, I am.” The other one didn't look convinced. “I come from a family of… highly respected landowners and ‘archaeologists’ for lack of a better word.” 

France's attention picked up, he had yet to ask where his fortune had come from, he knew it was probably old money since he didn't seem to work. 

“Perfect, we have noticed sea hunters scooping out the edges of our territories and we’re worried we will start to be killed and even if we are not we don't want that competition-”

“-and you want me to insure that your territory is completely protected?” 

They nodded their head. “If that is possible?” 

“Yes, that is in my power, you have my word,” He assured. “And my name is Britain.”

The merperson smiled, shooting a smug look at the other. “We look forward to working with you.” He said just before diving back under the water.

The purple stayed for a moment. “You may call me Scarlet, my other is Amber.” Suddenly glancing at France. “As a gesture of goodwill, I will warn you now that is a succubus and if you want me to, I'll drown her for you.” Scarlet’s eyes narrowed, hissing out the next words. “Just get her over here for me, I could recognize that scent anywhere.” 

“Thank you but I am aware of this and I would much prefer you not drown him.” Britain shot an apologetic towards France. 

Scarlet just looked confused. “I’ve heard that some of the surface have domesticated humanoids? How would you go about that, a siren has recently been harassing our populist.”

“Have you tried talking to them?” France finally grumbled. They glared at him. “I’ll… be top deck.” He twisted and slipped up the steps. 

He watched the merfolk that held the boat disappear under the waves, the bright colours glittering into nothing. He waited above deck for Britain to finish up. The storm moved away as the merfolk retreated back. 

France began to get worried after thirty minutes, what was he doing down there, they seemed to be gone already. Something felt off after he began to descend, taking two more steps before bending down to look.

His heart missed a beat, he covered his mouth to stop a sound from leaking out. A tail wrapped crushingly around Britain’s chest, stomach and legs. His mouth was captured in another, his eyes had rolled back in a drugged unconscious. The siren’s red and orange fins and scales shining brightly in the returned light.


End file.
